Le soleil
by CastorPollux
Summary: Follow up story to Le soleil, la lune. YBxRB. When you love someone your greatest wish would be to have them love you in return. In Bakura's case...he wishes just the opposite.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! does not belong to me.

A.N. This is the follow up story to the one-shot, _Le soleil, la lune. _I hope it is as well liked as that was!

**Le soleil**

The sun was setting…

Dark eyes observed the descent of Amun Re's glory beneath the horizon. Perhaps it was a trick of the light but a hint of red colored those eyes, ingrained deep within a gaze that seemed almost sinister…but that was just the sunset, wasn't it? The setting sun was painting white cheeks a rosy pink, playing over whiter hair, giving the boy who sat on the edge of the balcony a soft appearance, younger than he truly was, and save for the eyes this boy could pass as something innocent. Something kind. If not for a note of disdain upon porcelain features

He looked over the edge of the apartment building, down flights of floors to the asphalt ground hundreds of feet below. The fading daylight was casting a final rosy glow over the landscape of a city built from the ground to tower ridiculously high over the people who walked on it's gloomy floor, buildings that looked down on the people as if they were merely ants in this "new" world.

Bakura, Spirit of the Ring, scoffed, the derisive sound tearing itself from a pale throat, from a body that didn't truly belong to him. Perhaps they were all ants, useless little insects that lived their pathetic lives each day, dreaming of the dawn when life would mean something more. Idly he thought of that fool, Seto Kaiba. The man had an inferiority complex, housed in his office thousands of feet above the rabble. The memories of serving under Pharaoh had left their mark on that particular soul, this present shell wanting to feel nothing but superior to the very people who made him so powerful by buying his inane and trivial products.

How sad…

But that wasn't why he was watching the sunset, was he? He hadn't the desire to dwell on anything to do with Pharaoh. He had come to see the sun die. He had come to see it settle beneath this horizons view, out of sight to be replaced by the moon, dark and pearlescent, replacing day with night. In the early hours he would return to this spot to watch it reincarnate itself, spring to life just as strongly as it had slipped into death hours before. Like clockwork. In the depths of the Ring's soul room he could sense Ryou was still awake, his conscious mind flitting over his own like overlapping tides. The other was trying to taste the edge of his own mind, seeking knowledge of what he was thinking about. Bakura smiled, lips quirking faintly, watching the remaining rays of the sun sink below the scope of human sight before pulling his legs from the bars of the balcony's railing and standing.

"I'm thinking about you," he said out loud and he could feel the recoil of his lights mind, like a whip snapping back sharply as surprise washed through Ryou's awareness. No doubt he hadn't meant to be caught snooping. Bakura laughed quietly, stepping inside the comfortable apartment Ryou would have shared with his father if he were ever home, closing the sliding door behind him.

It was neat inside, white carpet free of any dirt that might be tracked in by unclean shoes. The coffee table in the middle of the room held a linear stack of his Ryou's school books, and a remote control to the television sat primly beside them, lined to directly face the t.v.'s dark reflective face. To his right was the kitchen, a dirty bowl laying already rinsed out in the sink the only evidence that anyone had recently used it while to his left was the hallway that led to Ryou and his absent father's bedrooms. Bakura turned left, Ryou's sock clothed feet making no sound on the already padded floor. Silently he opened the plain white door to Ryou's room, a slight creak of hinges announcing his presence to the empty space. Ryou may be meticulous about the organization and cleanliness of everything in the quiet home but the squeaky hinge was one of the few things he refused to fix. Bakura frequently told him it was because he was just lazy but in reality he knew his little light didn't like the silent atmosphere quite as much as his so-called "friends" thought he did.

When he possessed control of his body Ryou usually had something on, be it the television, the stereo, he would even hand wash the dishes just to hear the flow of the water. It was so funny sometimes, to think of how different they were. In his past life Bakura's desire for silence had been what had saved his life on more than one occasion. The life of a thief (a _master thief,_ he corrected himself) was not a noisy occupation. And then to be stuck with a host who couldn't survive without some sort of sound assaulting his ears seemed somehow ironic.

It was strange though, how he didn't mind…

"_When can I have my body back?_"

The soft telepathic voice of his hikari made Bakura sigh, pale hands opening the door to Ryou's closet.

"Not tonight!" he replied. "I've been stuck here for too long, I've given you a break. It's about time I had a turn!"

He could feel Ryou sigh, his conscious retreating back into his soul room, closing the door. Bakura smirked at the action. Little light didn't want him to hear him thinking, hm? Didn't matter. If he wanted to he could invade his other half's soul room but it would mean abandoning possession of the body and he had been telling the truth. He wanted to go out. Being stuck inside this infernal home, dead of anything save for the sad, lonely existence his beloved light lived, was maddening. It was nearly as bad as the imprisonment in the Ring had been. At least the ghosts only haunted his subconscious now, and not every false waking moment he "lived" in the Millennium object.

Pulling a pair of black jeans, turtle neck and long jacket from the row of hanging clothes he changed slowly out of his lights ordinary ensemble of light slacks and horrible sweater vest. Tossing the discarded clothes to the floor for Ryou to pick up later he removed a pair of boots from the closet floor, pulling them on and lacing them up. When he was finished he narcissistically looked at himself in the full-length mirror that hung on the inner door of the closet. Perhaps too much black, he thought idly to himself but didn't bother changing. Black, while truthfully not an ideal color to go unnoticed in, looked good on him and he was not in any rush to deny the fact. At least he didn't have Pharaoh's bizarre fascination with belts. Or Kaiba's love for tacky ankle length white jackets. Ryou had once mentioned it was very early 90's of him and Bakura, while not knowing exactly what he had meant at the time, always thought of the term whenever he saw the other man.

Some impressions just stick.

Continuing his assessment in the mirror he smiled and took a slow deep breath, breathing out just as calmly. And then he smiled, a sharp smile that sang of satisfaction to come, excitement to inspire.

Ah, to be alive…

"Ryou," he said quietly, looking into the mirror and marveling at all the ways they were different. "Don't count on getting your body back any time soon tonight, I plan to have a little fun!"

He felt Ryou shiver is the safety of his soul room and turned in his heal, leaving the room, the apartment, and the building, to blend with the rest of Kaiba's would-be ants.

It was time he felt alive.

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Bakura returned in the early hours of the next morning. The lonely apartment was opened quietly, the dark interior of the empty home absorbing any sound the thief made. Dully he let the keys in his hand drop to the coffee table, expertly weaving his way through the pitch living room, his head bent forward in the appearance of one weary. The squeak of Ryou's bedroom door made Bakura look up, however, thoughts of his sleeping light to attack his mind more strongly then they had been all that night. And he had been doing so well…suppressing them…

Taking off his clothes, peeling them from his body fluidly, Bakura fell to the bed naked, body bouncing lightly on the mattress before settling into the natural curves of the bed. He stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, watching nothing as his lids grew heavy and began to shut. He would be awake again in a few hours, confiscating his other's body briefly to watch the birth of the sun but for now he allowed himself to retreat back into the depths of the Ring. If one watched they would be able to see sharp features soften as the darkness of the Ring released possession of the frail body. They could see as the body shortened, grew softer in the almost light of a pale moon that streamed white light in through the window, muffled by the curtain. They could watch voyeuristically as pale fingers painted with drying splotches of red curled in sleep, and sharp hips soften to smooth into the body of a young 16 year old boy who didn't know what to think of his life.

Ryou would be angry about the blood in the morning. But like always, he would not to say anything.

In the darkness of his soul room now, Bakura grinned at the archaic walls of a time long since dead. Red was the color of love wasn't it?

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A.N. There we go. End of the first chapter! I am nt positive as to where this is going or what I will even write next. My fingers want to write and my brain is just trying to keep up! XDDD

Please review. I love feedback! 333

Thank you to everyone who reviewed _Le soleil, la lune_! It is thanks to you that this story exists!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! does not belong to me.

A.N. This is the follow up story to the one-shot, _Le soleil, la lune. _I hope it is as well liked as that was! 

**Le soleil**

Ryou opened his eyes to his living room, bathed in light. Groggily the teenager sat up, long legs swinging off the couch as he sat upright, rubbing his eyes. His hands were dry and stiff, something like dried mud flaking off his fingertips. When brown eyes focused he noticed it was blood, not dirt, and made a sound halfway between a gasp of surprise and a groan of exasperation.

Would it be too much to wash his hands?

A moment later a dark voice laced with malicious amusement lanced through his mind. _It's a present for you, host. Would it please you to know how he screamed?_

Ryou shuddered and stood, bare feet padding silently as he made his way to the kitchen not replying to his darker half. He was dressed in loose jeans and no shirt, doubtless something Bakura had decided to pull on before his ritualistic observance of the sunrise. He turned on the faucet, bothering only with the hot water. Sighing as he poured a generous amount of dish soup into his cupped palm, Ryou scrubbed his hands together beneath the running stream, soupy suds bubbling up as he scraped at the dried flakes of reddened brown, making sure it all washed down the sink.

He didn't remove his hands until they were a vicious red.

After that he went directly to the shower, stayed there for a hour, and cried.

He was careful to ignore the papers that day, having no desire to see whether or not his yami's victim had been found or not. Instead he decided a nice walk through the park would do well to calm his nerves, some fresh air sounding tempting. And after all, it was the weekend and a beautiful day. What business did he have spending it moping indoors?

That was how the white haired teenager found himself walking slowly through Domino City's central park, a nice area that was surrounded by neighborhoods and a place where the sound of playing children and couples out for a walk were common.

Ryou strode along the paved pathways alone, taking a simple pleasure in simply watching people and, quite literally, smelling the roses. He was almost disappointed when he heard his name called, pulling him out of a reverie that , rarely, had nothing to do with a life that for all intent purposes was lacking something very important.

Brown eyes met the eager lavender of a shorter boy, smiling as Yuugi Motou ran up to him, excitement evident in the boy's large smile and the way it looked like he wanted to jump up and down.

"Hello Yuugi, how are you today," Ryou said politely. He liked Yuugi but sometimes he felt inexplicably sad whenever he was around him and his friends. Perhaps it was because they were so tightly knit it was practically impossible to feel apart of the group of friends. Perhaps it was because the boy had a yami who loved him and treated him like a person whom he actually cared about in a genuine way and not the twisted, frightening fashion which his own yami had confessed to him when he had thought his weak little light was sleeping.

Ryou was very careful to hide that knowledge from Bakura, mental walls rectified and impenetrable.

"Ryou! I saw you on the other side of the park and thought 'I know him!' and just had to say hello!" the smaller boy said exuberantly, out of breath as he rested his hands on his knees.

Ryou smiled at him. "All that effort just to say hello?" the young British native murmured, tilting his head to the side and looking down at Yuugi.

_Think of how easy it would be to reach forward and snap his neck,_ a poisonous voice suddenly whispered and Ryou jumped, but kept his smile in place.

"What brings you to the park today, Yuugi? Are you meeting Jounouchi? Or Honda and Anzu?" Anyone save him.

"No, I just wanted to take a walk and spend some time with Yami, you know?" he said, standing up straight and looking to the bright bed of blooming daffodils to their right, flowering a beautiful sun-gold yellow. Ryou hummed his agreement, eyes following Yuugi's, one pale hand reaching up to brush away a strand of colorless hair. "Well," he said. "I should get going. I was going to pick up a few things at the market and-"

"Ryou."

He stopped mid sentence at the new voice, brown eyes returning to Yuugi who was now taller than the boy he knew, who's eyes were sharper than the boy he knew.

Yami.

_Pharaoh!_

...Ironically enough he hated it when they switched like that. It always threw him off and truth be told...he didn't often like what the long dead Pharaoh had to say.

"...Oh, hello Yami," he said, giving an embarrassed laugh and rubbing his neck. "How are you today? Enjoying the park?"

Yami looked at him, as if he was attempting to see through his skin, as if he was trying to make sure it was Ryou and not the tomb thief he had hated so many thousands of years ago and still did. Finally he smiled, expression friendly, like a big brother, or a bully.

"I wanted to speak with you," he said, deeper voice never failing to make Ryou listen with rapt attention. Bakura's voice had the same effect. When either of them spoke he listened and could never tune them out if he tried. Both of them were too domineering, both of them demanded attention. Both of them were, in their ways, so frighteningly alike that it made Ryou want to cry at the unfairness of it all. Yuugi got Yami, and he got Bakura.

Bakura...who hated himself for loving him. Such a terrible unfairness there...

"Did you?" he replied, playing the part of the shy and polite boy all of them had met that day in class. "Did I do something?"

Yami laughed lightly and waved a hand in a negative gesture. "No, no," he said. "I just wanted to speak to you...about the Thief."

It was as if the park suddenly became darker. Black clouds covered the sun, the trees lost their leaves before his eyes and grew knarled and blackened, the flowers around his feet wasted away and died, sucked back into the Earth, returned to dust and dirt.

When he snapped out of it a bird was singing brightly in a tree slightly to his left, two children raced by carrying Popsicles and laughing, a dog was chasing a lizard through the grass. "About my yami?' he said quietly, erecting a wall around himself, blocking Bakura's thoughts which had suddenly become more apparent, lurking in the background of his subconscious.

"Yes...well, Ryou. I don't know how to say this but..." Yami looked away, expression uncomfortable before looking back into Ryou's serious eyes. "Has he hurt you any more? Since...well, I wanted to know if he was causing you as much trouble as he used to."

Ryou stared at Yami, shocked. He had always assumed Yami and the other's had written him off as nothing important, a fair-weather friend, that he was simply the shell to the pesky thief who occasionally caused trouble and nothing more. To have Yami suddenly bringing it up now, in a public park among people, was surprising, disconcerting.

At first the only sounds he could make were choked beginnings of half-formed words. It took a moment to gather his thoughts. He could feel Bakura scratching against the wall, eager to tear it down with the curiosity that even he could feel, but Ryou simply made sure there were no cracks for his yami to eavesdrop through.

"He...well, he has been the same as he's always been, I suppose," he said awkwardly, not entirely comfortable with the topic. Talking about Bakura with Yami always made him nervous.

Yami looked at him with sympathy coloring reddened violet eyes and Ryou hated him for it.

"Well, I just wanted to know, you know, in case he was hurting you and..." The once Pharaoh trailed off, looking embarrassed. Ryou merely smiled, tilting his head. "Everything is fine," he lied.

"I believe I have discovered a way to separate our bodies, spirit and mortal, make them two different forms. I wanted to inform you, give you the choice. Because...you know, if we do..." he trailed off and looked at Ryou meaningfully. "We could destroy him. Without hurting you."

If he hadn't been shocked by the implications he would have been touched by the concern that was being shown him. It seemed as if they did care after all, these people who so often left him out of their group activities, their fun and games. Or perhaps it was only because this meant they had found a way to destroy Bakura without the guilt over having to kill poor little innocent Ryou.

In his mind he scowled and his walls shuddered under the assault of the tomb keeper who was becoming aggressively impatient. He quickly rectified them again,worrying momentarily if Bakura had figured anything out.

If he had the thief gave no indication and Ryou hesitantly opened his mouth again to speak. "Destroy him..." he echoed and the thought offered itself, suggested a life without the spirit. He didn't know why it perturbed him but the idea of a quiet mind, of that sinister voice no longer there haunting his dreams...he didn't know why that should make him feel lonely.

One grows comfortable in routine, he supposed.

He looked up into the crimson eyes of an ancient pharaoh, who has once been a veritable boyking to a people long dead. "Can I think about it?" he asked.

Yami looked momentarily surprised, as he hadn't expected Ryou's answer. He probably hadn't, Ryou reasoned. The other yami probably thought he would be eager to get rid of a parasite like Bakura.

But he obliged. The pharaoh was too polite to refuse him. He has asked, this was the answer he had received. "But Ryou...we would like to do this by the end of the month. If you could have an answer by then...?"

Ryou nodded, pushing a strand of ashen hair from his face behind his ear, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. "Yes...yes, I will have an answer for you by then," he replied, ready to get away from the other.

Yami smiled at him and Ryou couldn't help but think how royal the other looked smiling like that. Self-assured, confident, benign.

It irritated him a little bit.

Goodbyes didn't take long after that and Ryou watched the other walk away with a sudden cool lack of emotion, an indifference that he had learned from his little parasite. Around him children were playing, laughter rising gaily as wild excitement overtook their senses and brightened their cheeks a rosy color.

Hide and seek, he had always liked that game.

He lingered, watching them moments longer before shoving his pal hands into his pockets and heading for home. He also lowered the previously secure walls around his conscious, allowing Bakura to speak with him if he so wished but not root through his mind like the thief once had with careless freedom.

He tried neither.

Ryou sighed and left the park, so deep in his thoughts that he didn't hear the two woman discussing the grisly news of a murder that had taken place the night before, not far from this neighborhood, or how this world was becoming such an awful place to raise ones children.

But when had it ever been?

**A/N: ** I...fail. Well, there's the second chapter! Finally...Though that's not entirely my fault. didn't support any of my writing programs so...fie on them!

I hope you liked it, I personally feel it's a little weak but hopefully I will gain a little momentum as updates become more frequent. Any suggestions or opinions, please review :) Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Yu-Gi-Oh! does not belong to me.

**A/N: **I have decided that this predates the Memory Arc of the series and that that is all very unlikely to ever occur within this story universe. So, everyone is more or less ignorant to Bakura's past and Yami's former occupation save for, or course, Bakura, who addresses him as Pharaoh.

I hope you enjoy and remember, reviews are eternally appreciated and adored.

_Le soleil_ is a follow-up story to _Le soleil, la lune_.

**Le soleil**

**Chapter 3**

_What are you thinking about?_

Bakura sent the question echoing throughout the corridors of the Ring, bouncing off the old stone walls of an imagined sanctuary and reaching the surface of his host's brain like a stray thought.

He could feel Ryou shrug mentally and he suppressed the tick of frustration the small action invoked. His little mortals mind had been quite the closed book after his meeting with Pharaoh and he refused to show his apparent irritation by the fact. He suspected Ryou enjoyed the small ways in which he found to bother him and thought he shouldn't give the other too much satisfaction by letting him see it.

Damnable imp...

Bakura frowned into the darkness, thinking carefully about his companion who was being rather secretive. It bothered him more than he wished to admit and while he knew (_if he had too_) he could invade the others mind, use the Ring to rip open the folds of secrecy that were veiling whatever information Ryou had from him. And he was trying to tell himself he should do just that...

And yet something staved the urge, an invisible hand against his chest. Bakura told himself it was just too much effort and that he could do so at any time, there was no hurry. It would be easier to let Ryou's guard slip, let the boy betray the knowledge to him unknowingly. Let him forget Bakura was there and he would really act the thief he was and take that information without him ever realizing. Yes...that would be mush easier...

...Cursed host...

Bakura closed his eyes running a white hand, a ghosts hand, through his hair.

_Ryou..._

The name seemed to echo throughout his soul room, though no sound had escaped his thin lips. The name took up residence in the darkest corners of the vast dark caverns and pits that was his mind physically embodied. It echoed, this name bouncing back and repeating again, and again, never ending.

All in his head.

Bakura scowled.

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"What do you think?"

Yami no Yuugi, merely Yami to the group of mortals he called friends, sat in a semi circle, staring at him. It was from Anzu the words had come, soft and curious, the girl sat on her knees, hands on her thighs and staring at him, waiting for an answer.

The once Pharaoh of all of Egypt sighed and ran a hand through tri-colored hair. He looked tired, even when the body he spoke through was not his own. A spirits weariness shining through the adolescent form of his host. He could feel Yuugi's mind brush comfortingly up against his and he smiled internally at the sentiment.

"Honestly...I don't know." It was not the answer the three had been expecting and a wave of discomfort rippled through them. Honda narrowed dark eyes and Jou shifted beside him. Anzu merely pursed her lips and her brows knitted in concern.

"What do you mean, don't know?" Honda echoed. "Ryou's gotta agree...after everything the Ring's spirit has done to him!" The brunette was going to get worked up rather easily over this if he didn't find a way to diffuse it and soon. He knew the other held a special disdain for the thief after their run in at Duelist Kingdom and that he felt somehow responsible for the dark spirits return when he had been so sure that the Ring had been discarded and their quiet friend's problems solved. Though Yami knew it was an irrational thought he couldn't stop the young man from taking on a somewhat red-blooded guilt.

"I'm sure he will," Yami said quickly. "Ryou just has to...come to the conclusion himself. Remember, Bakura has been with him so long the thief may also be swaying a portion of Ryou's decisions even without his knowledge. We just have to remain patient."

He struggled not to shift under the intent gaze of three teenagers who wanted nothing more than clean answers.

"And when the end of the month comes and he has still yet to give us a suitable answer..."He took a deep breath and released it, feeling Yuugi's presence right behind him, bolstering him. "We will expel the thief by force."

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He was actually thinking about his laundry.

And the fact that every single pair of his previously white socks where now a soft shade of butter yellow.

Ryou held the culprit daintily with an air of determined disdain.

"Foul handkerchief, I curse you."

The bright yellow square of cloth had nothing to retort and Ryou threw it back into the hamper with a huff. While yellow socks weren't...bad necessarily...he still was awfully fond of nice _white_ socks. Some might even call him a stickler, or some would if they knew him a little better. The most Bakura called him was odd. But coming from a clinically insane 3,000 year old spirit he didn't take it too personally.

He would have to go shopping.

Ryou wrinkled his nose at the fact, not looking forward to an afternoon in the shopping malls looking for something as mundane as...socks.

Setting the laundry basket onto the couch he decided to wait until his list was a bit more substantial before venturing out for that little errand. Yellow socks could be...tolerated until then but he was fully aware that he was casting them a somewhat surreptitious look to the aforementioned socks.

He was beginning to feel a little silly.

Sighing the boy decided to distract himself instead by looking out the clear glass doors of his balcony, watching a flock of birds fly by as he busied himself folding clothes, more accurately, coupling pairs of previously single socks as stray thoughts scurried over his conscious.

Was his life always this boring, he wondered. The run in with Yami seemed to do nothing but remind him that without Bakura he would be quite alone. God even knew the only reason Yami had even approached him had had to do with his other.

_Fair weather friend_

It was his own bitterness that whispered that thought and Ryou choked on the sour taste of loneliness, swallowed it, forced it down before it rushed over him in a wave. It was moments like this that he could understand why Bakura was the way he was. He must have been very lonely in the Ring, stuck with nothing but the hate he held for Yami and the knowledge that his entire existence lay ensorceled within a...trinket.

It was very sad when he thought of it that way...But Ryou pursed his lips and shook his head, dislodging such thoughts. _He _wasn't Bakura however and he wasn't going to pursue the same path his other had. He didn't fancy he had more strength of will than the darker half did, instead he believed Bakura hadn't even tried to fight the anger that had overtaken him long before his death in Egypt. Ryou wouldn't let that happen to him, even if he_ could _understand it.

Swallowing Ryou left the basket of coupled socks on the couch, heading for the kitchen for a glass of water for his suddenly dry throat. And as he held the glass under the purifier over the faucet he let his mind travel over the enigma of the spirit that was so _part _of him that it was awfully difficult to think of him gone. He had lived years not even aware of his presence and when he had learned the truth...it felt as if he'd known the other had _always _been there, with him, apart of him, and he had suddenly felt an immense weight lifted knowing that he had never been alone, not once since he had gotten the Ring and his father had left again for distant lands, in search of long forgotten treasures. It was incredibly difficult for him to contemplate his life without Bakura and with his cup half full Ryou realized his didn't _want _to!

Not that he'd let the spirit know that. Or Yami and his friends.

Not yet.

Ryou left the glass empty in the sink when he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, looking around the neat room and feeling an irrational urge to suddenly mess it all up. He bit back the urge and instead walked to the balcony, sliding the door open and stepping out onto the platform that held him fourteen stories above the streets below. In a few hours Bakura would be standing here, watching with very different eyes the same world. The thought gave him a strange comfort and he smiled, leaning on the railing as winds played with his white hair gently.

He wouldn't tell Bakura, not yet. He would let the other stew in his self-imposed ignorance. He knew full well the thief could fight for the secrets of Ryou's mind and he suspected it was only because of the strange respect the other had developed for him that kept him from doing just that. He wasn't fool enough however to believe he was safe. Once Bakura lost his patience any shred of respect or so called love the other held for him would vanish and he would take what he wanted by force. Ryou would fight it...but that didn't stop the thief from having the upper hand, nor the truth that Ryou would probably lose and then let any control he had slip from his fingers.

No...he was going to play this game right. Bakura seemed so fond of them, as did Yami. Time called that he try his hand and see how much Bakura's host he really was. And if it was the 18th he had roughly 13 days to prepare.

Time to show what he had learned.

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**A/N:** Erm...so you know...I am not precisiely sure how this will conclude. Truth be told, I have veery little idea what the next chapter will hold. I write spontaneously and Ryou coming out this way was, for me, a pleasant surprise. I dearly hate the simpering way in which he is often written and have to

give him major kudos for being able to deal with Bakura. Thus...I hope his strenth is reflected in my writing. Haaaaa, but anyway! Look! An update that didn't come a year later! Fantastic!

I thank everybody who reviewed and can only be selfish and ask for more. I adore feedback as it does let me know how I am progressing. Critique is welcomed, flames are just mean.

I will try, try, try to update again soon. It is Summer vacation so the free time is boundless:)


	4. Chapter 4

**Le soleil**

**Chapter 4**

Sometimes Ryou really did hate Bakura, but it was a fleeting sentiment, like a brief breeze over naked flesh, when the chill shudders through the form and then is gone. But for those moments Ryou truly, unforgivably, _hated_ the Ghost of the Ring. He couldn't say he really cared for these moments but they were difficult to prevent, like the shudder of a cat walking over your grave. Inevitable and uncontrollable, Ryou dealt with it and let it pass, for surely it would, fade back into the strange affection he held for the other.

Bakura called it pity with a curl of his lip and fingers that contorted into stiff claws.

Ryou tried his best to smile and ignore the way the thief cursed his back in a whisper that could be mistaken for a lovers if it hadn't been so laced with malice and disgust.

Ryou wondered idly how Bakura defined love precisely, because in his opinion it was awfully presumptuous for the ghost to declare himself in love with Ryou while also wishing him to break inside, like the locks of ancient tombs once had under the Tomb Robber's practiced hands.

The Lovers certainly did not act as a suitable representation of them and Ryou stared at the card with an emotion akin to regret, or something more elusive. He didn't know what they were but it certainly was not the Lovers. He didn't care to delve too deeply into the possibilities that lay in these cards, their meaning often too realistic and often disturbing when it came to himself and his other.

He tossed the card from a pale hand, let it join the others on his small coffee table, a mess of rectangular pieces of little potential futures. He would have to tidy that all up later, before Bakura decided to get his hands on them. Unlike him the thief seemed to enjoy laughing at the dark things the cards often implied, a sadistic thrill passing through him that even Ryou could feel locked away in his soul room.

And he wasn't sure what upset him more, the impossibility for a happy ending or his own secret excitement he got when the Thief was so close to getting his way.

No one knew how to gloat with such unrestrained rapture as the Ring spirit did. Ryou would admit that is was...quite a fascinating show and the feelings that leaked through the link were, much to his silly sense of embarrassment, a lot like a narcotic.

Not that he knew what that felt like of course. He was just...hypothesizing...

The British native sighed and ran a pale hand through his hair, collapsing back onto the couch. He would have to speak with Yami soon and the notion did not sound particularly exciting. In fact, he was dreading it, the thought of calling him, walking over to the game shop...both made his stomach twist with nervousness. But he would have to tell him what his decision was. He would have to tell him what he wanted to do about Bakura. An expression of anxiety crossed his features as he commenced a rather intense game of staring down his television screen.

It was slightly perturbing to see his own face twisted in such a way however and he soon gave up and lost by forfeit, giving the aforementioned television a much needed sense of superiority over the stereo, who was used with far more frequency.

Ryou meanwhile bit his lip and stood, taking instead to pacing the room trying to build up nerve. He could freely admit his nerves had been on trial for the past few days, with him trying to figure out what to do, what he'd tell Yami and when he'd do so (he had only 9 days left now), and then there was the perpetual stress of trying to keep everything hidden from his yami.

He continued this wearing of the carpet for approximately three more minutes until he finally stopped dead in his tracks, taking a deep breath. Gritting his teeth he strode over to the phone and jerked it rather clumsily from it's hook, dialing the number quickly and closing his eyes when he heard the other end ring.

Once.

Twice.

Thr- "Hello, Kame Game Shop, how can I help you?"

Ryou opened his eyes and smiled as if Yuugi were right in front of him. "Yuugi," he said. "This is Ryou. I was wondering...could I speak with Yami?"

A rustling, as if the other were shifting the phone in his hand and a second later Ryou heard Yami's voice, deep and confident, come through the receiver.

"Ryou, this is Yami. How are you?"

Ryou looked at the wall, arching an eyebrow. Of course the other knew why he had called, why pretend this was a social call?

"I'm well," he replied, not bothering to return the question. He cleared his throat once before casting his eyes to the floor. "Yami...I have made my decision."

Yami said nothing and Ryou bit his lip, ready to make his stand, ready to show he wasn't just Ryou Bakura, quiet and polite, although he was those things too but he had to show them he was _more! _And so he was rather proud of himself when his voice sounded steady and strong, sure of himself and unwilling to have his mind changed regardless of what the other thought.

"I will go through with it," he said. "I want Bakura out, I want him gone."

x

Once upon a time there was a little boy and he was a very happy child. He lived with his mother and father in a small village along a branch of the Nile river and he knew everyone and everyone knew him.

The people there lived a comfortable existence, forgotten by the Pharaoh, ignored by the politics of the kingdom, they lived for themselves and each other in a relative peace. So what if they occasionally stole from caravans, if they sometimes dabbled in thievery to pay for cloth and food? Their numbers were small, their needs little, and occasionally all they needed was a little help making it through the dry seasons or the bitter cold of desert winters.

The little boy saw nothing wrong with the way his people survived and he lived in a near Utopia with his mother and father and fellow villagers until, when he was still very young, demons invaded his home and burned it all. He watched in fear as he saw his parents butchered, his friends murdered, his livelihood go up in smoke and fire, the acrid smell of metal and meat the incense of a hellish night.

Yet somehow he was spared, he was the one hundred and first.

The saved.

The forsaken.

And he was alone.

Somehow, somehow this is the most tragic part of our tale, his solitude, his isolation. Scarred and shocked, full of despair and heartache, once upon a time there was a little boy who wished he could drown himself in his own tears, in a desert that offered only cruel truths, and whispered only the last words of ghosts.

Truly a hopeless future for the young boy, who could barely be called old enough to fend for himself. He would easily die in the desert from starvation, infection, sickness. Any number of things really and there was really nobody around who would or could help him. He was haunted, he was cursed, he was forgotten for all who had known him were now dead, burned, nothing left.

But I'll tell you a secret, about this boy who had no hope, had no desire to go on, and who lost everything in a night of devils and death.

He lived.

x

Bakura laughed at the walls of his soul room, the noise rising in pitch and frenzy until the sound was hysterical, bouncing off the walls, a cacophony of madness. It wasn't until he was on the floor, gasping for breath he didn't need and choking on his own sniggers that he knew, he _knew_ if he didn't keep laughing he'd wouldn't be able to stop the tears.

x

Yami leaned against the edge of the counter, looking between Jou and Anzu. Honda hadn't been able to come when he'd called them all together, work holding him up from leaving too early but Yami hadn't been willing to wait to tell the others and had asked them both to come to the shop as soon as they could. He'd let Jou fill Honda in later.

"He said yes, that's great!" Jou said, the blond bristling with enthusiasm. Between he and the Ring spirit there was no love lost.

Anzu shifted her position, sitting on top the counter beside Yami. "It will be nice when everything is normal again." She breathed out a whoosh of air, her hands playing with a few loose threads on the pocket of her jeans. "No one trying to kill you, Yami. No one using us against you." She shuddered and the game king suspected she was recalling memories of Kaiba's Battle City blimp, of the way Malik Ishtar had used her.

And speaking of the Egyptian...

The bell of the game shop jingled a merry little melody, Yuugi had helped his Grandfather pick it out and it fit the cheerful aura of the shop and it's owner. Both Jou and Anzu looked over to see who is was, if Yami would be pulled away to deal with a customer, if maybe Honda had made it after all. Yami knew it was neither. There had been one more phone call he had made after his three friends and the other had been surprisingly accommodating on the phone. He suspected it had been his sister's influence.

Malik Ishtar stood in the doorway, looking the same as he had after the end of Battle City though his attire had changed from the purple belly shirt to something a little more...conservative, a simple dark blue long sleeve, maybe a little tight, and khakis. Malik smiled and looked at the three of them, two looking shocked and one appearing as he always had. Confident, fearless, _royal. _

"So..." he said, tone light hearted and amiable. "Long time no see, _gang_."

x

A.N. Oh look...I brought in Malik (and Marik). Erm...they are also favored characters, besides Ryou and Bakura. Haaaa, I have a thing for villains.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! does not belong to me, I forgot to put this last chapter but I'm beginning to think it rather redundant anyway as it is stated in the first chapter and yeah, why repeat myself:P

A.N. It looks like this will shape out to be a Yami no Marik/Malik fic as well as a Yami no Bakura/Ryou fic. I couldn't leave them out, I actually tried.

Enjoy

**Le soleil **

**Chapter 5**

The reactions that followed all should have been rather expected.

Jou, because he was a hothead and no one could ever honestly say otherwise, leapt up, his body tense, his easygoing attitude morphing into his former tough guy persona. If Honda had been here he would have done the same Yami knew and he looked to Anzu, to see if she were alright. She had paled a bit and he noticed her hands were gripping the edge of the counter too tightly for comfort. He caught her eye and smiled, to reassure her. He would be doubly damned before he let anyone hurt his friends and he said as much with his expression.

Her posture loosened but she still held on to her nervousness, something he didn't blame her for.

"Jou!" he said, pushing himself away from the counter and moving to catch the blond before he collided rather explosively with the other blond.

Malik had not moved and he stood with a rather peaceful expression as Yami caught Jou not a foot from his own form.

"What are you doing here you little piece of shit! No one wants to see you after the stunt you pulled!"

No one had to ask what stunt that was. Jou had had his mind and body used against his friends just as Anzu had. Their was still some rather tangible resentment.

"I invited him here, Jou," Yami said, before Malik could defend himself or maybe to prevent the situation from growing more volatile. The Egyptian didn't look particularly apologetic.

Jou turned on him, spinning to face the shorter, although really not by much when he was the former pharaoh, and looked at him that felt as if he'd betrayed him. "How could you do that! After what he did to us?!" Yami only put a hand on his shoulder, looking seriously at his friend. "I can't do this ritual without taking care of _all _loose ends. Malik is apart of this too."

Taking the temperamental boy's distraction as time to move Malik walked carefully around them, ending at a shelf of various card packs. He didn't bother to look at the girl who ha been silent since his arrival and rolled his eyes at Yami's words. _Loose ends, _yeah right.

"I-I thought you were in Egypt."

Malik looked at Anzu, purple eyes hooded. "My sister is in Domino for the Museum. Pharaoh called a month back about all this so I decided to come with her." He waved a hand to gesture what _this _was and turned away from her.

Another hurt look was cast at the former Pharaoh from Jou at those words, who was beginning to calm himself. "Oh, we didn't need to know that, huh?" he snapped and Yami sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I knew you'd be upset," he said quietly, looking at Malik, who looked away.

"I wonder why!" he retorted acerbically and Malik rolled his eyes again, a habit when he was in this company. "Can we just get on with this?" he muttered. "There _are _places I would rather be. Re knows none of you really want me here." He looked pointedly at the them all, a moment of confusion passing over his face when he didn't see someone who should be here. ""Where's Ryou?"

Yami cleared his throat as he laid a hand on Jou's shoulder, preventing the other from retorting to the other's blunt words. "That's actually what this is all about," he said. "Ryou phoned awhile ago telling me he was ready to go through with it and I just wanted to let everyone in on it and-" He paused for a moment and looked at the Egyptian carefully. "-discuss some things with you," he finished.

Malik silently congratulated the Pharaoh for being such a conniving bastard. On the phone he had hinted that the British native would be here. He probably thought it had been an adequate lure, the two boys finding a sort of connection in each having darker sides that swam in the deep end of the pool of sanity.

He didn't want to admit out loud it had been a good plan. He doubted he would have come if he'd known the boy who held the Millennium Ring would not be present. Clever.

Bastard...

Malik sighed loudly and threw a key chain of Kuriboh back into it's basket of assorted duel monsters. "Great, fine." He looked to Yami and smiled cheerfully. "So, what can I do to serve you?"

Anzu sighed at his sarcasm, Jou bristled, and Yami just lifted an eyebrow. "I told you Malik, I'm not the Pharaoh any longer, you don't have to address me like that..."

Malik waved his hand as if to wave the words away. "Yeah, whatever," he said. "Just tell me what you wanted me here for." He was impressed then when Yami did not launch into a long tirade of whatever it was he said when he was avoiding getting ot the point and simply...got to the point.

"I want to make sure you are still up for this, that you won't back out and try something."

Of course, it didn't mean he couldn't also be a little insulted. "Try something? Like what?"

"Like stab us in the back and let Marik take control of you."

Ah, blunt. And it looked like Jou and Anzu were lost. They would be, wouldn't they. They still thought-

"I thought Marik had been banished to the Shadow Realm!" Anzu exclaimed.

There, that. He sighed and ran a hand through flaxen hair. "He is," he said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "But he still exists and existing..." He cleared his throat and looked at a wall. "Existing means he can always find a way to come back." He smiled with faint admiration. "Bakura did.

"Yami here thinks that if he pulls him from me, give him a body of his own, make him mortal essentially, he won't be a threat with his powers gone and yeah, all that rot."

Malik himself wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. Oh, he knew he never wanted to give his darker side the ability to control him like he had, steal his body from him and threaten _him _with banishment to the shadow realm...it was just...he thought it would be very strange to see half of himself, in full, flesh and blood, form.

He would have to try not to anything embarrassing, like scream.

"I'm not going to _betray_ you, Pharaoh," he said. "I want him out, I never reveled in housing a murderous psychopath in my head, thanks."

Yami just looked at him as if he'd like to swear upon that but Malik ignored him. He had become quite good at it, too. Ignoring people he thought were wasting his time. The Pharaoh, or rather the very memory of him, had wasted the first portion of his life not to mention lace it with enough blood to last him several lifetimes.

"Now, I think I'll be leaving," he said, abruptly because the shop had fallen into an annoying stillness and Malik knew all of them were watching him. He cast a deprecating look at the three of them as he left. "Call me when Ryou is actually here, next time. I don't want to waste my time just so you can have my word, Pharaoh."

The bell jingled merrily as he left, leaving the friends behind. On the counter Anzu shifted uncomfortably. Jou simply glared obstinately at the closed door. Yami sighed, looking to the floor as he crossed his arms, thinking that that all could have gone better.

_Don't worry Yami_, the soothing voice of Yuugi piped up, making the Pharaoh smile despite himself. _I sure everything will be okay! _

But he couldn't shake the feeling that when it came down to it he wondered what Malik would really do when he had his own darkness standing before him, flesh and blood, as human as he could ever get. For that matter he wondered if Ryou really was ready to cast aside the thief, denounced him as he should have done the moment he learned of him. He had hidden it so many times, the Tomb Robber's return, had acted as if all were normal, as if he wasn't a threat to them all. He was left wondering if either Malik and Ryou were strong enough to turn truly against their others. Or if it would be as it always had, him and those he cared about against an evil that used cheap tricks, the lives of the innocent, as their shields.

x

In a land of shadows there was a sound, a wheeze, that grew raspier and choked as it rose in volume. The sound buckled for a moment, falling into silence, momentarily crushed by the weight of the darkness around it before it burst forth with a sudden violence, a hysterical and beatific laugh that drowned out the oppressive silence around it, tearing it to shreds until it was nothing more than the tattered edges of a black cloak, and the laughter continued, feverish and manic, and the voice that spit forth such a sound petered off into delirious giggles, layered with the heavy breathing of something in this darkness that was still impossibly alive. Eventually the laughter ended and was replaced by mad little whispers, promises from the dry lips of something that inhabited this place of decay and loneliness.

"Malik," it whispered and the name laced the shadows like silver linings, like icing and sweet, sweet nothings that cloyed on the tongue and begged, begged, _begged _to be touched.

"Malik," the voice hissed. "Malik, Malik, Malik."

x

Bakura stretched, turning away from the dying sun to walk back into the apartment. It was cool inside and he shut the door, an autumn wind giving the air a bit of a chill. He had never really cared for cold, at least not this kind, so different from the desert weather he had grown up with. Ryou had tried to explain to him one time it was the humidity in the air that made it feel different, even if temperature readings were the same in different climates. He had waved it aside vowing never to understand it (or caring really) and had changed the subject to automobiles and all the reasons why they shouldn't exist.

Re damned too noisy to start off.

He hadn't missed the suppressed smile his hikari had let flit over his conscious to let Bakura know he found amusement in the (ridiculous) things he said but Bakura had made no comment about it.

He wouldn't admit to himself, at least not consciously, that he enjoyed being able to make the other smile.

Sprawling haphazardly on the couch he stretched out, head resting on the armrest as one leg dangled off the sofa, the other propped comfortably against the cushions. He didn't really mean to do it but it was done before he even realized. He was asleep in minutes, the mortal body apparently worn out from Bakura and Ryou's shared use of it as of late. He blinked and then sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked around his soul room somewhat forlornly. He didn't want to be here, not really, and resisting the urge to invade the exhausted body he left his soul room instead to explore the already well treaded paths of the Ring. He was five steps past Ryou's door when he stopped, staring forth into darkness and rune etched walls. He turned, slowly, to see his other standing in the doorway of his soul room, a place he knew looked far different from his own. Where Bakura could barely stand to be in his Ryou, he suspected, found a comfort in a room that echoed his childhood, when life had been so much easier, cleaner, happier. When his soul had been pure of his influence.

Ryou was staring at him, an odd look on his face. Bakura didn't say anything, just turned fully and walked back to Ryou steadily, his footsteps echoing deliberately down the stone halls.

To his credit Ryou didn't flinch. In the face of this fact Bakura grinned, torchlight glinting off slightly elongated canines.

He stopped inches from the boy, looking down at him from his higher stature. It was only a few inches, but it worked to his benefit at times like this, when he could try and scare the other with his darker eyes, sharper features and greater height.

"What are you doing Ryou?" he asked, words spoken softly but with a certain edge about them that caused Ryou to shudder despite himself. He smiled at that, he had seen the other try and suppress it, push back the shiver that made his skin tingle and his breath catch in his throat.

It was moments like these when Bakura wanted very much to kiss Ryou. But he pushed back the urge, knowing it would bide well for neither of them. It would reveal far too many secrets to his lighter half and make him lose sight of what he truly wanted, what he had spent so many thousand years obsessing over. Besides...he wouldn't have been able to do what he really wanted to anyway. They were incorporeal beings in this place, little more than ghosts. If he were to touch Ryou now all he would feel would be the crackle of invisible electrons, the coldness of presence without being. An absence.

But he leaned forward anyway and though Ryou wouldn't be able to feel _him_ he would be able to feel the unnecessary breath he took, blowing cold and steady against his neck, with their cheeks aligned as his mouth so close to the others ear that it would be so easy to run his tongue along the fine cartilage. "What are you doing Ryou?" he asked again but his voice was hardly above a whisper now and even though he was not looking into Ryou's eyes he fancied they widened, that his breath caught in his throat.

It was moments like these that Bakura would give anything to be able to touch Ryou.

"N-nothing," his light managed to breath, "nothing, nothing, wondering where you are going!"

Bakura pulled away with a smile, taunting and full of an affection few would recognize. "I am off for a stroll, care to join me?" he mocked, opening his arms with a flourish to gesture to the encroaching darkness. The Ring always grew darker when Bakura was in these moods, when he thought the world his oyster and the haunted halls his palace.

Ryou shook his head and only caught the flash of disappointment in his yami's eyes because he was looking for it. "No, no I think I will stay in here. Maybe sleep."

Bakura sighed and waved a hand carelessly, brushing his words away like bothersome cobwebs. "Your loss," he said and turned, walking away from Ryou. "Dream about me," he called behind his back, as Ryou watched him walk away. "Toss and turn, scream in your sleep, cry to your pillow, dream about me." He laughed and filled the corridors with the mad music of the sound and only stopped when he heard the door of Ryou's room close.

"Dream that I hate you," he said to himself, when he was too far to be heard. "Dream sweet little lies that will set me free of you." He sighed and felt like screaming, falling against the stone wall and sinking to the floor. "Ryou...dream...and help me stop loving you," he whispered but the words were lost almost as soon as they left his mouth, swallowed by a silence that would never shut up.

x

A.N. I feel as if I need to take a moment to thank everyone who has reviewed;

Dragonlady222: You have reviewed every single one of my stories. I am so glad you like what I write and I sincerely thank you for taking the time to review and give me feedback of what you thought. :) I hope to always keep hearing from you!

Yamiace1321: In my story Ryou doesn't know about Kuru Eruna, ergo not understanding a lot of what Bakura does and for what reason. At most he would suspect something in Bakura's past made him the way he is but Bakura hasn't shared that much with him as of yet. And as for your stories! You should upload them absolutely. We can always use more of Bakura, Ryou, Marik, Malik centric stuff. They are love!

Mei1105: I totally agree! And yeah...Pegasus and Dartz...they fail to make the cut!

And for everyone else, crimsonrosepetals, Anei Anouka, Mystic Genie, casaragi, Love'sBakura, Charmkeeper, PageTurn, Andyouthinkimcrazy, thank you so much!

This chapter actually came easier then any of the others have and consequentially is also the longest, though, granted, not by much. Hopefully the rest of the story will come just as smoothly and I will have another chapter soon:)

As always, reviews are encouraged, I get a fuzzy feeling every time I get a new one.


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